


His Master's Voice

by Minxchester (ComeAlongPond14)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Anal, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Dominance, Fucking Machines, Kissing, M/M, Orgasm, Orgasm Delay, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 03:59:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7961593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComeAlongPond14/pseuds/Minxchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He was Barry’s heaven and his hell, and he never wanted it to stop."</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Master's Voice

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [His Master's Voice 主人的聲音](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8346970) by [jls20011425](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jls20011425/pseuds/jls20011425)



> A gift for @sorryimnotthatkindofdoctor, as prompted on tumblr: "Barry, bent over & getting thoroughly plowed by a fucking machine while Harrison/Eobard talks him through it, just as he talks Barry through everything - slow, steady, deep tone - & controls the speed of the machine."
> 
> We are both helpless to Harrison // Eobard's damn voice.

“That’s it, Barry, that’s good...stop struggling. You’re only making it worse for yourself.” There was only hot amusement in Eobard’s voice, and Barry would have screamed if he wasn’t gagged, because damn the man’s unshakable calm. “I told you you’re not coming until I say you can. What’s the benefit of torturing yourself additionally?”

Twisting as best as he could--which wasn’t very far, considering that he was strapped to a padded bench on his hands and knees, thighs spread wide for Eobard’s viewing pleasure--Barry glared back at the older speedster, who was still sitting comfortably in that damn wheelchair.

A whine tore out of his throat, and Barry wriggled again; but as Eobard had pointed out, the motion only succeeded in pushing the silicone cock more savagely against his prostate. The fucking machine was vicious, unrelenting, thrusting the thick toy inside of him at speeds that constantly changed as Eobard toyed with the fucking remote currently tucked in his palm.

Barry whimpered again, more pleadingly, and forced his hips back to stillness. Grinning darkly, Eobard stood, moving closer to the machine to stand where he could watch the dildo sliding so smoothly into Barry’s well-lubed hole, the muscle stretched obscenely around its girth.

“That’s better,” he purred, and Barry shuddered, his cock weeping at the gentle control in his mentor’s voice. Eobard could command him to climax with his words alone, that silk-soft tone caressing every syllable. The way that he said Barry’s damn name was enough to have the younger man hard, always and everywhere, a fact that Eobard gleefully took advantage of, far too frequently. He was a cruel, wonderful master.

Barry shouted against the rubber gag in his mouth as the machine picked up speed again, the toy cock starting to hammer into his ass harder than it had yet, and his prostate took a merciless pounding. His spine was rigid, fingers clenched into fists against the leather, and Barry felt tears beading in the corners of his eyes. He did  _ not _ want to disobey Eo, could not bear it if he came before he had permission--but the older man was being unfair.

“I know, shh, I know,” Eobard said softly, and he was closer now, his hand settling on Barry’s hair, stroking tenderly through the dark brown strands. Barry’s eyes sank closed, relieved by the calming touch, and he focused on that, letting Eo’s petting ground him even as the fucking machine kept up its brutal assault on his insides.

A single tear slipped down his cheek--not one of frustration or fear, just overwhelming need--and Barry grunted softly in surprise when Eo leaned down, lips brushing his skin as he kissed it away. “You’re doing beautifully for me, Barry,” he praised quietly, mouth grazing the younger speedster’s ear. “You cannot imagine how stunning you look right now, straining so hard to obey me perfectly, taking that toy so well. You are perfection, Mr. Allen."

Barry let out another strangled cry, his entire body jerking as the words flowed through him, hot and delicious. Before, when Eo had been Harrison Wells to him, earning the older man’s approval had always made Barry hard inside his jeans, tormented by his mentor’s voice, his tone, the brightness in his eyes when he’d gaze at Barry--and worst of all, the touches, the rare and blissful moments when Harrison’s long, knowing fingers would graze over his skin in gentle affirmation and teaching.

As Eobard, he was the same in every way--but also a thousand times better, particularly in these moments when he would tear Barry to pieces and then pull him back together again, working his pleasure out of him in waves of torturous ecstasy that could leave Barry more broken and overwhelmed than any battle ever would...and more content than words would ever say.

He was Barry’s heaven and his hell, and he never wanted it to stop.

“Please,” he tried to beg, though the gag reduced it to little more than a garbled,  _ Plee _ .

Eobard laughed quietly, moving back behind him and stroking one wide, hot palm over the curve of Barry’s ass, thumb skirting so close to where his entrance flexed and fluttered around the toy, and with a tiny click, the battering slowed, and Barry could breathe again.

“Push back, beautiful boy, let me see you fucking yourself on it,” Eo ordered, and Barry was complying before he’d thought twice about it, shoving his hips back in a slow, graceful motion, meeting the thrusts of the machine and groaning deeply as the plastic tip of the dildo rubbed almost tauntingly over his sweet spot.

He heard Eo’s soft hum of approval, and Barry glowed at the affirmation. His hips flexed as he worked harder, meeting every thrust of the machine and grunting into the gag as his prostate suffered for his compliance.

“Barry.” Eobard’s voice was barely a whisper, and the younger man stilled, breath held, toes curling as the fake cock continued its ruthless slide in and out of his ass, keeping him poised on the edge, desperate, ready.

“Come for me.”

It was amazing, how the simple fact that it was Harrison--Eobard--commanding him to do so, could catapult Barry over the edge. He climaxed, milliseconds after the order left his lover’s lips, spilling hot and wet and filthy over the leather pad underneath him, the fucking machine still pounding hard and fast into his ass, and Barry screamed his name, eyes clenched shut, his entire body lost in the ecstasy of Eobard’s ownership over him.

When the pleasure abated, he slumped in the harness that held him immobile, boneless with bliss. Eobard’s fingers were drifting over his skin, skating up his spine and over his shoulders, through his hair; and Barry tilted his face back, accepting it when the older speedster slid the gag out of his mouth gently.

“Good boy, Barry.” The words were murmured against his lips, and Barry sighed softly, content, lips parted to let Eo lick his way into his mouth. “So good for me. I’ll even let you rest, before we continue.”

Barry’s eyes flew open, rising to stare at his mentor in aroused confusion, because he could not imagine what else he could manage in his current spent state. 

Eo laughed, kissing him again and biting at his bottom lip before he straightened. “Oh, Mr. Allen, no--we’re far from finished. You’re going to lick up the mess you just made--and then, right where you are, all tied up for me like a Christmas present, you’re going to sit there like the good boy that you are, and let me fuck you myself.”

Even if Eobard hadn’t known with absolute certainty that Barry would more than happily take whatever he gave him, the long, drawn out groan of bliss he received in reply was more than proof enough of Barry’s agreement to that plan.


End file.
